le witness
indeed was produced, John Hampden, whose mean supplications and enormous
bribes had saved his neck from the halter. He was now a powerful and
prosperous man: he was a leader of the dominant party in the House of
Commons; and yet he was one of the most unhappy beings on the face of
the earth. The recollection of the pitiable figure which he had made
at the bar of the Old Bailey embittered his temper, and impelled him
to avenge himself without mercy on those who had directly or indirectly
contributed to his humiliation. Of all the Whigs he was the most
intolerant and the most obstinately hostile to all plans of amnesty.
The consciousness that he had disgraced himself made him jealous of his
dignity and quick to take offence. He constantly paraded his services
and his sufferings, as if he hoped that this ostentatious display would
hide from others the stain which nothing could hide from himself. Having
during many months harangued vehemently against Halifax in the House
of Commons, he now came to swear against Halifax before the Lords. The
scene was curious. The witness represented himself as having saved
his country, as having planned the Revolution, as having placed their
Majesties on the throne. He then gave evidence intended to show that his
life had been endangered by the machinations of the Lord Privy Seal: but
that evidence missed the mark at which it was aimed, and recoiled on him
from whom it proceeded. Hampden was forced to acknowledge that he had
sent his wife to implore the intercession of the man whom he was now
persecuting. "Is it not strange," asked Halifax, "that you should have
requested the good offices of one whose arts had brought your head into
peril?" "Not at all," said Hampden; "to whom was I to apply except to
the men who were in power? I applied to Lord Jeffreys: I applied to
Father Petre; and I paid them six thousand pounds for their services."
"But did Lord Halifax take any money?" "No, I cannot say that he did."
"And, Mr. Hampden, did not you afterwards send your wife to thank him
for his kindness?" "Yes, I believe I did," answered Hampden; "but I know
of no solid effects of that kindness. If there were any, I should be
obliged to my Lord to tell me what they were." Disgraceful as had been
the appearance which this degenerate heir of an illustrious name
had made at the Old Bailey, the appearance which he made before the
Committee of Murder was more disgraceful still, [547] It is pleasin